


Aldulairë

by Arcus_Calion



Series: Quentalirilla [4]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Mythic Poetry, Norse poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 18:28:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14774891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcus_Calion/pseuds/Arcus_Calion
Summary: This one is about the creation of the Two Trees, in the same style as the Voluspa.





	Aldulairë

What then is the name | of the Enchanted Sun

Of what do ye speak | when you name its rebirth

And drink to its fire | to relight the world

At some date far hence? | Tell me this tale!

 

Hearken o mariner | traveler wayworn

The tale of the song | of the first Sun and Moon

In ages forgotten | then dark lay the earth

Neath twinkling stars | and the galaxy bright.

 

Not yet woken the Elves | the folk of the stars,

Empty was Endor | save for Melian fair

And the sprites of Irmo | and Námo the grim

And folk of the Dread One | Morgoth most dark.

 

The Valar and Maiar | in Aman most wide

Were gathered in darkness | by the stony shore

When faring all thence | to lands nearly lying

With all of their folk | they began great labors

 

Then Araman wide | and Avathar dark

They quarried and delved | and got goodly stone

Brought thence to the plain | of Valinor still

Unlit save by starlight | and the eyes of the gods.

 

Piled and shaped they | the highest of Mountains

Pelóri the sharpest | of terrestrial peaks

Aulë himself then | for seven long ages

Piled the highest: | Taniquetil the Blest.

 

Tulkas and Aulë | the Strong and the Smith

Their folk then they gathered | to continue the labor.

They searched all about | for store of good stone

And metals most precious | and substances fair.

 

Then Aulë essayed | to commence further work

Yet irksome he found it | and said thus forthwith

“Tis most ill indeed | in this gloom to work

An evil on Morgoth | who toppled the Lamps!”

 

Then spake Varda | “Much light remains still

Cross airs and earth flowing | yet untamed brilliance.

Let us gather therefrom | a store of great light

With which to make on | Everwhite a beacon.”

 

To some this seemed good | but Manwë was wary

“In haste speak thou, Spouse, | for look now about

This darkness indeed | is that of deep night

No more may we suffer | from the airs to glean

 

“Behold Sea-Lord Ulmo | to the lakes of light spilled

From the fall of the Lamps | the beacons of Arda

Will fare now in haste | and gather thence store

Of Light gold and silver | with which we may work.”

 

Then Ulmo got him | across Belegaer

The Sundering Seas | to dark Middle-earth

Then the lakes of light | with water replaced he

Hence Ringil and Helcar | seas second-most old.

 

Getting him back then | to Valinor dark

He brought the old light | for renewal of hope.

Against his return | had Aulë prepared

Silindirin the cauldron | And Culullin’s fountain.

 

These filled they with light | with white one with gold one

And Aulë had light then | sufficient for working.

He builded then all | the mansions of auld

The homes greatly shining | of the glorious gods.

 

And Varda thought her | of beauty celestial

And weaving then new | out of Ilmen, blue air

A dome aery light | o’er Aman to drape

Spangled with sparks | from Silindirin’s well.

 

Valimar blessed | the City of Bells

They built then, of gold | the roofs of the buildings

Of silver the floors were, | the doors all of bronze

Lifted with old spells | and bound there with power.

 

Before the west doors | of the City of Bells

Ezellohar green | Mound Sumer-ring

The gods gathered there | in the Máhanaxar

Two pits were dug then | on the mound of green.

 

In the one there were cast | from the deeps of the sea

Great pearls there three | and a small shining star

Thither by Varda cast | then covered with foams

And white mists; last sprinkled | most lightly with earth.

 

Thither came Irmo | of Dreams the Master

Come thither with sprites | of dream and of quiet

To water the mound | With Silindirin’s streams

Of argent-most light | and whisper quiet words.

 

In the other were cast | from the deeps of the sea

Rocks of gold seven | of the lamp of Ormal

A piece too was thrown | then covered with soil

Devised by Yavanna | the Mother of Earth.

 

Then Vána her sister | the Lover of Life

Came thither with maidens | of fiery dance

To water the mound | with Culullin’s streams

Of golden-most light | and sang songs of spring.

 

So was the earth then | hallowed and blessed

And came forward Yavanna | and Niënna the Mournful

The first sang a song | and words of great power

The other in silence sat | weeping salt tears.

 

In silence sat Valar | and Maiar about them

And no sound was heard | o’er the world in that hour

Save the chanting of Kemi | the Earth Mother wise

Behold! From the mound | come two slender shoots.

 

From these shoots gleaming | arose two small trees

Grown neath the music | of Kemi Earth Mother,

Of all her works many | have they most renown

And about their fate | are weaved the Elder Days.

 

The first that erupted | from the mound of mists

The elder of the trees | had bark tender white

Its rind smooth as silk | with thick-tangled boughs

With leaves of blue-green | that beneath shone as silver.

 

The Valar all marveled | but Yavanna the wise

Arrested their joy | and proclaimed to the throng

“Behold not full wrought | nor ceased has its growing”

At this they fell silent | to attend to the tree.

 

At the words of Yavanna | the tree burst forth blossom

Each hanging on stems | in swinging groups white

Like cherry trees fair | that in springtime bud open.

These flowers then opened | in white flickering beams.

 

For like silver and pearls | and the stars of the sky

Was their form and their hue, | they burnt with white light

That waxed and waned softly: | heart radiant wavering,

From each of the flowers | there fell silver dew

 

Of light ever dripping | like dew from the stars

Fallen to earth | but dappled the ground

Beneath that fair tree | with dark moving shadows

Because of the dancing | of its fluttering leaves.

 

Light liquid like silver | distilled from the bole

Dripped thence to the earth | and radiant shone

O’er leagues of the plain | but because of the leaves

And the throb of its heart | it cast fluttering shadows.

 

Thereat was Irmo | the Master of Dreams

Glad in his heart | his joy uncontained

Burst forth in a cry | ‘This tree is Silpion’

And thus was its name | and e’en Námo smiled.

 

Then turned all to the next | the slender shoot second

Which burst forth then slowly | as Silpion shone.

For seven long hours | in the first moonlit eve

Did Silpion wane | as the next tree grew strong.

 

This shoot rose slender | and from its young bark

Poured effulgence gold | and then Silpion slept

Glowing gently in dreams | as the new tree grew tall,

And so large that may all | the throng sit beneath it.

 

Of goodly growth then | and shapeliness fair

Was the stock of that tree | nor by foul blemish

Was broken its rind | which golden faintly glowed

Above the wide earth | an incredible height.

 

Then did there thrust out | in every direction

Boughs golden fair | with buds of gold laden

Which burst into leaves | of the richest young green

Like the new-opened beech | with gold edges shining.

 

Already the tree | gave light far and wide

But as the gods looked | it burst into blossom

Like myriad lanterns | of hanging flame golden

Each forming a horn | spilling forth aurous rain.

 

From each of these horns | like laburnum shaped

There came forth great warmth | and a golden light.

Then spake Yavanna | “Laurelin be its name

For the gold of its boughs | and its musical dew.”

 

Forth from these trees | a great light issued

The bliss of the gods | made greater by far.

The light of those trees | was holy and blest

And all that it lit | was made fairer still.

 

And all that walked therein | were filled with great gladness

And the worth of each thing | was showed forth to each.

To Yavanna and Núri | gave they great praise

“Lo are these trees | most exceedingly fair!”

 

Many their names were | the eldest was called

Telperion argent | Ninquelótë the fair

The younger was named | Culúrien golden

Malinalda the amber | and their old names beside.

 

Yavanna arose then | and spoke to the throng

“Gather ye now all | the light that drips thence

Store it in Culullin | that fountain of light

That when Silpion waxes | ye may water this tree.

 

“For every twelve hours | the trees wax and wane

But when each is dim | thou shouldst water them then

With dews from Culullin | and Silindirin the still

But also replenish | them with the tree’s saps.

 

“For hear ll ye gods | and the ranks of the Blessed

Of Light is the sap | of these twain trees here

And their sap is light! | This heed ye all!”

All were amazed then | at her works and her words.

 

By these words meant she | that when watered with light

These trees would give forth | much more than they took

And Varda took then | thought for their storing

And all this excess | she kept in great vats.

 

About the Green Mound | she ringed these bright pools

The wells of pure light | all hallowed and blessed.

But Vána bade Ariën | to water Laurelin

And Irmo bade Silmo | likewise to Silpion.

 

The trees did wax and wane | in wise that such there was

A time each day when both | the gold and silver shone

And mingled then the light | in the Land of Aman blessed

And holiest of times | did the gods that hour deem.

 

Thus was accomplished | the greatest of works

That the gods made ever | since the Timeless Years

And still do they mourn | that these Trees have gone

And no more will shine | til Dagor Dagorath.

 

The Sun and the Moon | which now rule the skies

Are but lesser children | facsimiles lacking

The magic and power | and blessed light holy

That from those Two Trees | poured ever anon.

 

But lo has my tale | run on in the telling

So fain was I speaking | of the glorious gods

Whose works are more wondrous | than the great deeds of Men

But lo is it evening | and sleep is upon me.


End file.
